


citrine for luck.

by CadenceH2O



Series: Cady's Drabbles [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Devil, F/M, Gen, Magic, Supernatural - Freeform, Wiccan references, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:22:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29694297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CadenceH2O/pseuds/CadenceH2O
Summary: Miya Atsumu is the devil dressed in an angel's garments.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader
Series: Cady's Drabbles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2096454
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	citrine for luck.

**MIYA ATSUMU** is the devil dressed in an angel’s garments, the pearl-white fabric gushing over his smooth skin like a waterfall, worshipping him as if he were an honourable deity (spoiler alert: he’s not). The muses swoon in harmony when he walks into the room; the sun adjusts so it hits him like a golden spotlight; doves take to air, chirping musically while they form a circle above his head, a white halo that serves to deceive. 

Like every other human being that has ever met Miya Atsumu, I didn’t see his horns until his fangs were a millimetre away from my neck, his forked tail waving from side-to-side in delight, like a dog that just discovered a bone in his front yard. The sparkling smile, charming confidence, attractive aura— All part of his grand scheme, an act, a _trap_. 

Not many get to dance into his extended claws and walk away unscathed. 

In fact, no one has ever walked away unscathed— No one but one.

Me. 

And as the case seems to be, Miya Atsumu doesn’t like survivors. He doesn’t like exemptions, and as far as he’s concerned, I’m the stray sheep that survived by wandering away from the flock. The big bad wolf emerges from the endless depths of the forest, lingering right at the treeline, which acts as the line of salt that keeps him back. 

Because the big bad wolf is, indeed, scared of a line of salt. 

“There was a warehouse sale for sea salt last week,” I provide helpfully, swaddled in a blanket, snug in my circle of salt, my circle of protection, my circle of no-Atsumu. “Who knew it’d come in so useful?” 

He fumes angrily, growling in detestation, mere seconds from burning my apartment down— But when it comes down to it, if everything else burns— My circle of salt with be completely free of combustion, a heavenly space that hellfire shrinks away from. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.” 

“Oh?” I hum interestingly, fixing my attention on the swirling wine glass in my hands. The vermillion liquid resembles a cup of blood; glinting under the light with a strangely menacing viscosity. “I suppose you let the chance slip away, then.” 

“You can’t stay in there forever.” Atsumu says, convincing himself that eventually, the mouse would have to leave its’ hole for cheese. “I’ll wait.” That’s the moment where he grins, revealing every flaw of his Prince Charming facade. What’s the flaw, you ask? Well, it’s the fact that Miya Atsumu isn’t a Prince Charming at all— He’s the shrivelled warlock disguised as a golden child, one that will toss you into a cage the moment he sweeps you off your feet, riding into the sunset with you, never to be seen again until he picks out his next target. 

“Can I?” 

The unsure flicker in his eyes tells me everything I need to know. Miya Atsumu is, for the second time in his life, doubting himself. He turns away hastily, jerking back from a glitch in his confidence, choosing to rake his hands through the loom I had set up in the living room, tearing the hand-woven material with a single flick of his wrist, toppling over a basket of feathers on a nearby table. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Atsumu reasons, snickering cruelly in my direction as he inspects the herb collection I’ve stuffed into the small opening of the window, the sun bathing my children in all her bright glory. “Whether I take it from you or the underworld, your soul is mine.” 

Silence reigns over the land of my living room, Atsumu choosing to read the lack of reply as defeat on my side. His eyes flick over a few of my belongings in his boredom— Jars of dry clover, a few sprigs laid out in a circle; three crystals sitting in succession on the table; an orderly arranged line of candles— 

He freezes. 

I take an appreciative sip of my wine, basking in the satisfaction of his realisation. “Have you considered for a moment, Atsumu, that perhaps I _don’t_ have a soul?” 

“You... You can’t be...” He turns, horror slowly seeping into his eyes like water taking to a napkin. The revelation seeps into the fire in his eyes, strangling and suffocating the flames until the embers struggle to hold on, and then all light is gone. “There’s no way...” 

“Do you know what crystals those are?” I ask with an amused smile, the red liquid briefly kissing my lips. 

It’s as if he believes the objects will disappear if he just looks for one more time. “Amethyst, selenite, citrine...” 

“Insight, purification, and most importantly, _luck_.” I indulge him, smiling. “No ordinary person would buy this much salt, Atsumu, even if there was a warehouse sale.” 

“There’s... There’s no way...” He’s shaking, and I can’t tell if it’s out of shock or anger. 

I smile, tracing the rim of the wine glass with my finger. Nothing tastes quite as rich as satisfaction. “I’m a witch, Atsumu. You can’t touch me. Not in the past, not now, and certainly not in the future.” 

**Author's Note:**

> :3 I had fun with this! The devil thing started as a metaphor but then it just kept growing and I went with it I guess,,, loved how it turned out though! I think this is one of my best metaphor pieces !


End file.
